


The Flower Crown Fic

by notalotgoingon



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ...that’s it, First Meeting, Flower Crowns, Fluff attempt?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalotgoingon/pseuds/notalotgoingon
Summary: Inspired by Sykkuno’s PO Box opening in which he didn’t know how to wear a flower crown. He calls Corpse who helps him and accidentally slips up, saying, “You’re beautiful.” This causes Sykkuno to ask if he might want to hang out sometime. That’s the summary, I think.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 543





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Usual Disclaimer: real people, focused on the online persona not the actual individual, politely and respectfully writing this for the fans that enjoy it, so do not share this with any content creators involved.
> 
> Also, I wrote this in literally an hour, so any mistakes here are ones you are welcome to correct because I’m sure there are some; I’m not the best editor, I’m afraid. As always, leave a comment, concern, constructive critique if you feel like it! Special thanks to the Discord for giving me the idea while we were watching the stream. That’s it, I guess. :)
> 
> I want to do a Minecraft Wedding Drabble Thing next...?

Corpse receives a call just when he’s about to actually try to catch a few hours of sleep. At first, he’s a tad angry at whoever the mystery person is for calling so late, but when he catches sight of the name, he freezes and melts at the same time. It’s Sykkuno. Of course it’s Sykkuno, just as he was about to cleanse his mind of the beautiful, kind, funny man, he decides to pop up again. Not that he’s complaining, really, since he does cherish any and all opportunities to talk to Sykkuno and hear his sweet laugh as they meme together and play video games.

They haven’t even really interacted outside of gaming or quick texts on discord, but Corpse feels a connection, and he hopes Sykkuno does too.

“Hey,” he says, putting Sykkuno on speaker to hear his voice ricochet off the walls of his small bedroom. It’s soft and melodious, and added with the fact that he’s nearly whispering, it’s purely adorable.

“Oh, uh, hi!” Sykkuno reacts with surprise like he didn’t call Corpse first, like he almost didn’t anticipate garnering a response with his action.

“How are you?” He wants to scold himself for being so basic. It’s a casual greeting, but he finds it more suited to acquaintances than to friends. He should’ve gone for something wittier, happier, he tells himself, listening to his phone for any indication of how his greeting is being taken.

“Pretty good, actually,” Sykkuno smiles, perking up cheerfully, “but I’ve got a tiny question about, uh, flower crowns.”

He winces slightly, cringing at how his voice frames the odd request. But Corpse doesn’t seem to find it odd.

“Okay, what about them?”

“Well, I got one from a fan, right, but I don’t know how to wear it.”

“Are you serious?” Corpse giggles, imagining Sykkuno, wildly flailing about trying to put a floral headpiece on.

“Yeah, I mean if you don’t wanna, I’m sorry for bothering you. I just- I don’t why I asked,” Sykkuno babbles, deeply remorseful for approaching the man in the first place. He probably has way better things to do, he chatsizes himself, than help me figure out something so simple. He’s got music and fans to worry about, not silly flower crowns. Sykkuno breathes out slowly, fidgeting with the decorative thing in his hand. It’s white with a ribbon, but it’s weird. Where does the ribbon go? Why is it called a flower crown? Is it meant to go on his wrist or around his neck? Through his arm like a hula hoop? 

“No, you’re fine.” He assures Sykkuno, not wanting him to feel bad because of his poor choice in words. “I understand how it can be complicated. We can FaceTime if you like? So that you can show me how you think it works and I can tell you what to do.”

“Um, okay, but won’t I see your face then?”

“Not exactly, I can just point the camera at my bed or something.”

Corpse’s paranoia about his face doesn’t flare up for some reason when he’s with Sykkuno. He trusts him more, he thinks, yeah, that’s it. He presses the button to call Sykkuno, and there it is staring up at him, the man’s angelic face.

“Hi, again,” he says, peering into the darkness of an empty screen.

“Alright, where do you think it goes?” Corpse asks like he’s trying to get a child to put a block in the right hole.

“Uh, on my head, right?”

“Exactly. You’ve got it.”

Corpse feels somewhat proud as Sykkuno fits the crown to his head. Except for the fact that it’s backwards, it’s perfect. And it’s really, really beautiful, like a radiant forest nymph. Persephone, his mind supplies, unwarranted.

“And turn it around so the ribbon is in the back. There you go.”

Sykkuno isn’t normally affected much by Corpse’s raspy voice, but usually, they’re not alone. A screen is separating them, sure, but he still feels closer to the younger man than he ever has prior to this encounter. He decides he wants to prolong hitting the end call button for as long as possible, even if it means ditching his original plan to play Rust until long after midnight. 

“Did I do it right?” He bites his lower lip, not for fear of messing up because, really, adjusting his crown was no cause for worry, but because he could picture Corpse smiling from the other side. At least, he hopes he is smiling, content and pleased.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, hoping desperately that Sykkuno can’t hear him. But of course, in the empty silence that surrounds both of them, he can. His cheeks flush a bit, not used to getting compliments despite the way his friends so willingly dole them out whenever he talks to them. Somehow, it’s different with Corpse. He doesn’t seem like Toast or Poki, people whom he can laugh and pal around with without the ramifications of something more lying beneath the surface of a causal, friendly interaction. Then again, perhaps he’s overthinking it, and this is just another way that Corpse jokingly flirts with him like when they’re streaming, except they’re not streaming; they’re alone with just each other for company, no subs to read out, void of viewers to please and entertain. Sykkuno leans forward, as if hoping to hear the other man’s slow breathing. He wants to memorize it, just for a small, seemingly insignificant piece of him when they hang up for the night. His white flower crown tips just the slightest bit forward, and he uses his free hand to right it properly, just like Corpse taught him.

The silence is deafening, consuming him, outright forcing him to say something, anything to fill the space, “So you know how Rae was offering- uh, she wanted you to come over to her place a while ago? Remember on stream? Well, this time, I’m asking. For you to come over. If you want. Like no pressure or anything,” he chuckles nervously, wondering if he’s being too forceful, putting too much emotion into his words and possibly scaring him away from the prospect of saying yes to the invitation. 

He would hate to scare Corpse away when they are just starting to be more than friends. Is that even what he wants? He wonders slowly if he will be happy with being just friends. In the shows he watches and movies he’s seen, the protagonist always wants the love interest to be more than friends, right? So it would make sense for him to feel like that, yeah? It’s not strange or unusual; these are normal feelings for him to have as they’ve gotten closer.

Then, his mind turns nasty, turns against him. What if Corpse despises him? What if the reason they haven’t interacted so much off camera is because he can only stand to be around him when there are people watching? He is ready to shut down, doesn’t care that his fears are practically unfounded. We’re our own worst enemy, after all. Our own rudest heckler. It is the human condition to seek out a single hurtful remark out of thousands of genuine compliments.

He almost doesn’t wait for Corpse’s response, truly considering backing out. Sykkuno almost leaps to backtrack, make it a joke, laugh it off because why, why would he ever want to come to his house and be alone with him? It was a silly request, he nearly blurts out, so silly of me, my fault for trying to impose that on you. But Corpse is so shocked that Sykkuno actually wants to see him in real life that he stops in his tracks.

“Y-yeah, I would, um, actually- I’d love that,” he tells him, pouring his true feelings into every word. The following response from Sykkuno means everything to him. Of course, the brunette is probably too nice to retract his offer, but maybe he’ll have a change of heart and realize Corpse isn’t worth seeking out or chasing after romantically. Maybe they’ll just stay friends forever, and nothing will change.

“O-okay!” Sykkuno breathing catches. Calm down, he repeats, steadying himself while remaining conscious of his shaky movements. “Um, how’s three o’clock day after tomorrow work for you? I-is that too soon?”

“No, that’s perfect. Could you do me a favor?”

Anything, Sykkuno wants to say. His greatest wish has been granted: Corpse is coming over. They can watch anime or make blueberry muffins or-or there are so many possibilities he can’t even begin to imagine the day they’ll have together. 

“Of course!” He settles for instead.

Corpse psyches himself up for what he’s about to request. Maybe it’s too much or weird. Or maybe he’s overthinking it and should get on with his ask before too many seconds fly by. Gosh does he ever stop thinking, he wills the thoughts to stop roaming around aimlessly. 

“Could you wear the flower crown? I can teach you how to wear it again. And I just, uh, like it. It’s really pretty on you.”

He’s glad he’s kept his face hidden because Sykkuno would have a great view of his rosy cheeks and the hand that’s fluffing his hair nervously.

“Sure, Corpse,” Sykkuno replies, voice sounding like an angelic murmur to grace his unworthy ears. At least, unworthy in his opinion because everyone is inferior to Sykkuno.

Flower crown still placed delicately on his midnight locks, Sykkuno smiles in delight, bringing Corpse’s face into a bright beam to match. All of his anxiety had been for nothing. Sykkuno actually wants to meet him and not just to see his face or for some shallow reason. He just wants him. And that’s enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep that doesn’t last long but is certainly filled with fluffy cotton candy dreams about a certain flowery boy.

Before he can sleep, however, Sykkuno jumps into a tale about his day, everything he got from the PO box opening, including a maid outfit which raises Corpse’s eyebrows and piques his interest for no real reason, and how his stream went. He talks about winning in Among Us, memeing with his friends, and how fun it had been to just play. He tells him how he wishes Corpse had been there to have a good time too and that he thinks Rae is setting up another lobby soon, so they can play together then.

At the end of his story, with a soft hum that sounds like, “Night, Sy,” Corpse drifts off. Sykkuno won’t admit it to anyone else because this stays between him and his phone, but he held his breath for a minute, listening to Corpse’s gentle inhale and exhale as he gradually let himself feel tired too. After a long week of streaming and gaming nonstop, it was good for both of them to recharge and relax together, heads full of plans for their next meeting and finally at peace with the world.


	2. The Flower Crown Fic Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Great title, I know, thanks. So two people wanted a second chapter, I wanted to make people happy, and this happened. I hope you all enjoy this one in which Sykkuno and Corpse meet in person for the first time, and there are blueberry muffins, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget the disclaimer! Real people, fake situations, work of fiction, etc. Thank you, enjoy.

Sykkuno is counting on him, he insists to himself after the sixteenth time of internally requesting he turn around. He’s stuck in traffic, slowly progressing, and he’s so tired and hungry and bored. He wants to put his car through the narrow gap in between vehicles to the right and race to the nearest highway to get the heck out, but then he remembers that Sykkuno is expecting him to show up, an hour late or not. He’s got a hoodie in the back seat (they’re not just print off ordinary hoodies, ok, they take a lot of time to make. They acid wash them, and they’re really comfortable, high quality, like one of a kind, hand cut, alright?) that he promised Sykkuno he would hand deliver, so he has to fulfil his promise. Corpse places his head in hand, other fingers still tightly gripping the wheel.

Everything is slow, the music playing, the sun’s rays glancing off the guy’s hood in front of him, the steady flow of air conditioning that’s barely accomplishing its one job of keeping him cool. The only thing going fast is his heartbeat, pounding loudly everywhere like in his ring finger that’s pressed against his chin, and his throat practically echoes the pulsating rhythm throughout his whole body. His stomach churns, uncomfortable. His body begins a rebellion against him, protesting being made to sit in a cramped car for three hours straight. He focuses on just getting to Sykkuno’s apartment as quickly as possible.

Half an hour later, he makes his way to the carefully followed address. He sighs, now or never. If he chickens out at the front door, he’d never forgive himself for letting down Sykkuno, giving him false hope, making him wait patiently for his arrival, only to be crushed by the disappointment of realizing he bailed last minute. Corpse also considers what will happen when he walks in. Perhaps his friend is unprepared for his entrance, or he’s annoyed at him for being late or, worse, didn’t even want him to show up at all. It’s hard to keep the nasty thoughts at bay, but he tries to on his way to Sykkuno’s front door.

“What up, baby?” He regrets saying anything at all, but really, that’s hardly new.

“Hey, Corpse! Oh, uh, s-see, I wore the flower crown?” He displays the pretty, alluring headpiece on his fluffy head of hair, greeting him with a warm smile that he makes no move to cover up, making Corpse a little happier inside.

“I love it.”

It’s casual and easy the way Sykkuno grins at him through layers of anxious thoughts. He doesn’t let himself drift away, pretend he’s not there. Heart beating rapidly and mouth dry, he beams at Corpse because he’s finally content and joyful, soothed by the other man’s presence.

Corpse, on the other hand, is nervous and can’t hide it as well as he thinks he can. He fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, and lamely extends the one, the one he signed, to the boy in front of him.

Sykkuno hazel eyes light up even more, “I’m so excited, you, you actually got me one. I can’t believe it.”

“Of course I did.”

Corpse buries his hand in his curls. He’s never been one for social situations, so he tries his very best, pursuing an old tactic of asking philosophical questions like so, “What’s your biggest fear?” He blurts out as a rather late icebreaker to calm himself. He desperately wants to play it off as a joke. It’s not, but he’s just nervous and awkward, realizing how beautiful and flawless Sykkuno is in person. Eyes going anywhere but his radiant smile and picturesque stare that could turn demons into angels; trust Corpse, he knows from experience.

“Seeing your face.” He sees Corpse wince and immediately backtracks, “No not like that, I- well, I just value your anonymity, and, you know, I don’t want to accidentally disclose, uh, certain information. Right?”

“That’s fine, Sykkuno,” Corpse forgives readily. There is nothing to forgive really, he adds internally, Sykkuno obviously doesn’t want to see his face, prefers a mask and the mystery of the intimidating voice. Everyone does, he’d been a fool to consider coming here without the mask. It had been so silly to actually think someone would want to see him. Or maybe he’s just blowing everything out of proportion because Sykkuno is genuinely a nice friend who doesn’t want to wrongly reveal his name or features to his viewers. It’s definitely the latter, but Corpse is too frozen in place to do anything but revert back to his original form: quiet, dark, and brooding.

“Well,” he redirects the conversation, folding and unfolding the ribbon of his flower crown as it dangles in his hands, now taken off his head at some point out of embarrassment. Corpse wants to tell him he should never have to hide something about himself because he promises he won’t judge, “I made some blueberry muffins. For you. But I bet they’re not as good as yours.”

“If you made it, I’m sure it’s fucking amazing.”

He’s going too far, he reminds himself. He needs to approach Sykkuno delicately because he might scare him off, and that would tear him apart from the inside. But hey, Corpse thinks, at least he would get some nice lo-fi tracks out of the painful ordeal. Anyway, his thoughts are all over the place. One minute, he’s connected, living in the moment and holding Sykkuno on a pedestal. The next, Sykkuno is still in the clouds, emblem of pristine perfection, but he is so far down in the depths of despair that even his boy’s pretty laugh can’t bring him out.

They eat muffins and chat, though mostly it’s just the older man because Corpse’s illness makes it hard to talk when consuming or after consuming food. He lets Sykkuno talk about Bimbus and how his friends are doing. They sit on his cushy three seater couch, one of the only pieces of furniture in the room because Sykkuno just moved in, so give him some time to unpack, with the middle seat open. It doesn’t stay that way for long. Twenty minutes into the show they start watching, an anime Corpse has heard of but never seen before that Sykkuno claims is positively fantastic and who is Corpse to disagree, Sykkuno gets up to put their plate away. When he returns, somehow the other brunette has moved about three inches, so Sykkuno moves a bit closer to even it out. Then somehow, he ends up in the space between the younger man’s knees, explaining the plot of the show.

Of course, this position begins to prove itself as being very uncomfortable, what with Sykkuno half off the seat and Corpse pressing himself into the back of the couch to avoid brushing against the man practically in his lap, so they switch. Corpse drapes himself over the left arm of the sofa, holding his head up with his elbow balanced beside him. Sykkuno takes the opportunity to replace himself in Corpse’s lap, perfectly oblivious to how much the pair look like a couple. 

It reminds him of a night or two ago when they played Rust and logged out together, their characters in the same sleeping bag. He nearly falls asleep, smiling and at peace. This is all he has ever wanted, to be near Sykkuno without their friends chattering about, distracting him from the older boy. He doesn’t feel the need to leave or run and hide in fear of messing up. He isn’t bored, scrolling through Twitter; in fact, he doesn’t use the app for the entire time he is at Sykkuno’s new place, his phone abandoned on a cardboard box somewhere. He is with his favorite person, and for once, he doesn’t feel two steps away from screwing up everything. Corpse feels truly happy for the first time in a long time, and it is all thanks to the lovely anime prince in his lap and some delicious blueberry muffins. Oh, and of course, a heartfelt thank you to the white flower crown, Sykkuno’s lack of knowledge for how to wear said article of clothing, and the phone call that started this whole thing.


End file.
